proper
by Charged as Guilty
Summary: And there he was, standing amidst his crime, only able to describe himself as... happy.


He didn't hear much from Adachi after that day. He could still remember the feeling of the fire as the paper burned in his fingers, the way the flames scorched his skin before he let go, Adachi's ecstatic laughter echoing throughout the small interrogation room. He remembered how he felt nothing but numb when Adachi snaked a whisper in his ear, thanking him, before the man walked out. The numbness slowly found itself filling out with something he'd never felt before, and something he couldn't dare describe.

It was a weird feeling. Butterflies were knotting in his stomach, his mind on the verge of piercing a headache through his skull. He stared down at the ashes in the tray, and he could still feel the heat on his fingertips. Then, he found himself smiling. What for, he wasn't sure. His whole body suddenly felt light, like he was walking on air. He'd just betrayed all of his friends and his uncle. He'd helped a murderer. He'd burned a crucial piece of evidence.

And there he was, standing amidst his crime, only able to describe himself as... _happy_.

It wasn't the _proper_ word, it wasn't the _proper_ feeling, but he couldn't find the proper way to describe it.

After that day, he didn't hear much from Adachi. The man said he'd be keeping tabs on him, and to always pick up when a certain number called, or he'd come find him. After two months of no contact, he'd assumed Adachi was just throwing empty threats. Then, one night as he was studying for exams, his phone started buzzing. He almost ignored it, figuring it was Yosuke coming to whine to him about studying, until he noticed the caller ID. There was no hesitation; he answered the phone.

"Souji-kun," Adachi's voice laced through the receiver, a hum with every word. "I need a favour. You're not too busy, right?"

He found himself dropping his pen and heading for his bedroom door without a second's hesitation. "What do you need?"

Months turned to years, the calls few and far apart, but Souji always complied, always dropped what he was doing to follow Adachi's whims. What they were anymore, he couldn't remember, all he remembered was Adachi's voice echoing through the receiver to give him the request, how jovial he always sounded, how he'd sometimes end the request in a short laugh. It sent shivers crawling down his arms, his body feeling lighter every time that number called.

A couple of days after his twenty-second birthday, there was a knock on his apartment door late at night. He'd thought about ignoring it, but something made him get out of bed and tiredly slug his way to the entrance. It had to be important if it was so late. He opened the door, slightly taken aback at the man standing before him. It was Adachi, no doubt, hair as messy as ever, but instead of a suit and tie, he was decked in a casual hoodie and loose jeans.

"Good evening, Souji-kun," his voice shot through the hallway like a gunshot, amusement dancing in his eyes and a laugh hidden in each word. "Can I come in? I need a favour."

Without a second's hesitation, he stepped aside to allow Adachi into his home. The night ended with him happily on his knees, hair being tugged mercilessly. The rest of the night was a hazy blur, but he was covered in teeth marks and bruises when he woke up, and Adachi was nowhere to be found. He found himself smiling as he examined the teeth marks in the mirror.

Weeks went by again without a word from Adachi. He'd just barely pulled himself into his apartment before his phone started ringing, and he answered it without a second thought.

"Souji-kun," Adachi purred. "I need a favour."

He found himself leaning against the wall to his front door, touching himself as Adachi had requested. That happened many times more, each getting more frequent. Weeks ended up turning into days, and days sometimes turned into hours between phone calls. He gladly answered each one.

One day he was told to make a spare key for his apartment and mail it to a specific address. A month later, in the middle of the night, he got a phone call. The phone call ended with Adachi in his apartment, spare keys dangling on the keyring on his jeans as his arms snaked around Souji's waist, teeth sinking into his neck.

He didn't get phone calls anymore.

"Souji-kun," Adachi hummed, pushing his thumb down on Souji's bottom lip. "I need you to call in sick today."

Hazy smile on his lips, Souji reached for his phone and called his work. The conversation was done in a minute before he rolled back onto his side, staring blissfully at the other man. Adachi smiled, crooked grin filled with mischief and desire. He found himself on his hands and knees, fingers digging into the sheets as teeth broke the skin on his shoulders, moans of desire crackling from the back of his throat as Adachi drove into him hard and fast. It happened again throughout the day—on the couch, in the kitchen, on the floor, the shower, even in the closet, because Adachi asked.

As Adachi lay asleep, Souji examined the marks over his body in the bathroom mirror, smiling pleasantly.

He remembered what he felt like, standing in that interrogation room, his fingertips heated from the fire. He still didn't know the proper word, but whatever it was, it wasn't stopping now.


End file.
